Thursday, August 22, 2013

You might be surprised to learn there is a whole cadre of
writers of erotic folk and fairy tales. It’s sort of like the old Rocky and Bullwinkle TV show’s
“Fractured Fairy Tales” taken up a few notches.

I mean, really, just think what you could do with plot line
like Sleeping Beauty. Horny young
prince comes upon sleeping maiden. (How does he know, by the way--whether she’s
a maiden? After all, once you know for sure, then she isn’t!) What to do, what
to do? He takes liberties, of course. And she awakens gladly into his arms.
Riiiight! Not in real life. She’d be ticked off. And then the fun begins.

Then there’s the matter of Snow White (sure she is) living with seven guys. Cozy, eh? Sounds
like a case of nymphomania, to me. Wonder if she likes it in ménage or if she
just takes them on one at a time? Does she give each Dwarf his own day or does
she have favorites she pops more than once a week? And how about the
“equipment”? I’ve heard--never had direct experiences--that the dwarves weren’t
dwarf everywhere.

If you like your folk tales spicy hot, check Annie Eppa, A.
Violet End, Selena Kitt, Cerys du Lys, Adriana Hunter, Elizabeth Black, Nadia
Wilde and others. It is a field that just keeps attracting more and more erotica
writers.

How can I resist? I’ve always loved folk tale variants, so
here is the start of one of my erotic folk tale books. When I finish it, you’ll
know!

SCARLETT IN THE HOOD

by

Angelica French

CHAPTER ONE

Prince Wolfe leaned his back
against the headboard and pulled Nana to his chest. His fingers trailed down
her arm and her shiver rubbed her nipples deeper into him. She watched his eyes
as she moved again, pressing into his hardness.

“Whoa, Girl!” Prince held her
back. “Let a guy rest, will ya? Damn. I thought I scratched that itch. You’re
one hot woman, you know that? But if you want to play some more . . .”

He pushed her head lower, and
shifted himself so she could find what she looked for.

“Rinnnnggg. Rinnnnggg.”

Nana looked up, annoyed at
the interruption. “Damn phone.” Nana leaned across Prince, draping her breasts
on his legs. “Hello?”

She listened to the response.
She mouthed “my daughter” to Prince as she looked over her shoulder. She pushed
herself upright, and held the phone close to her mouth and gave a big cough.
“No, Honey. It’s not really better. I told you before, I don’t think we should
get together tonight. I’d better rest. I’m in bed now.”

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Here are two teasers from my erotic romance, Streetwalker, out August 1 from Sizzler Editions. I hope you go to
Amazon and download your copy onto your Kindle after reading a bit about Carrie
and Harlan. The book opens with a decision point for Carrie:

“Oh, Baby!
Oh, yeah, Baby. Oooh, oooh, yeah, oooh. Unhhhhh!” The dock worker held her down
while he screamed his release, his hot breath redolent with beer. The smell of
diesel fuel on his hands sickened her, dandruff showered her face from patches
of thinning hair as he hard-rode her, pinning her shoulders to the thin
mattress. The biting jab of aching muscles meant she’d be swallowing another
Flexeril after he left. Her skin split where his broken fingernails dug in. He
threw back his head and jerked into her two more times before he collapsed, the
bulk of him spilling onto the space on either side of her body.

Long ago,
Carrie learned to go to “not here” during sex. She tolerated the body pumping
into hers if she went somewhere else.

She looked
down at his greasy hair covering her tits. She restrained herself from lifting
off the dead weight of her John. She knew the rules. He initiated the
withdrawal of his limp cock from her pummeled body. He owned her for the
remainder of his fifteen minutes. Nine minutes to go.

She waited,
still beneath him, afraid her stirring would get him going again. While waiting
out her time, she rehearsed the steps of her escape from this hellhole of a
whorehouse. After tonight, if it went as planned, everything would be
different. No. More. Fucking. Ever. Ever. Again.

Later on, Carrie is telling Harlan about her past. She finds
herself attracted to him but fighting that feeling:

Carrie convulsed and her laughter sputtered out.
"Only you, Harlan, would worry about SPF levels when you take a girl on a
picnic. I love you," then realizing what she had said, she tacked on,
"like a brother. Oh, God, no. Not like a brother," remembering her
past a beat too late. "Like ... a business partner."

He shook his head. "That's better. I do not want
you thinking of me as a brother!"

If you wonder what the book is about, here’s the blurb:

Carrie
is a smart woman with a dark past and more than her share of heartache.
Determined to retire early from hands-on sex work, she uses her skills as an
exhibitionist to bargain for partial ownership of a high-end, brownstone
bordello in New York City with the erudite, handsome and powerful Harlan
Ledbetter.

But
even though she's only 22, Carrie's already been in her line of work far too
long. Besides the fact that sex has been little more than Work for most of her
adult life, Carrie also has to contend with painful memories of abuse at the
hands of her stepbrother. Could sexuality ever truly belong to her? Could it
ever become something she would want?

Harlan,
meanwhile, certainly wants more than a business partnership with this stunning
woman – and the feeling may be mutual, if Carrie can let herself want him as
much as she fears she does. But she has a long way to go before she can give
her heart and body to a man willingly. How will she get there? If there's one
thing Carrie has learned, it's how to negotiate. She has a feeling this skill
will come in handy with Harlan in more ways than one.

Carrie
approaches Harlan with a unique business proposal – one that offers more than
just a way to run their bordello, but a whole new outlook on life, sexuality
and love. Intrigued, he takes her on...

Streetwalker
is Part One of Angelica French's exciting new "Sex Sells" trilogy.